I’ve been on my fair share of hundreds of first dates, nay, thousands, nay, however many people are using Tinder. At this point I’d call myself an expert in getting to know someone pretty well in under an hour and then likely never speaking to them again. My dates of first have ranged from not bad at all and super fun to painfully tortuous and detrimental to my health to forgettably mediocre and greatly inferior to watching Netflix. I have been haunted by pervy comments made by pervy dudes wearing pervy fedoras. I have smiled recalling cute dad jokes made by cute could-be-a-dad guys wearing cute old man beards. I have also not been able to locate run-of-the-mill names of run-of-the-mill guys wearing run-of-the-mill…whatever their outfit was. I assume some kind of button-down shirt and a pair of jeans and a human face with teeth.
My brain has deleted certain individuals from its files quite readily after we awkwardly hugged goodbye and each began our public transit routes away from this bland encounter. The fantastic beers I’ve shared with highly interesting folk definitely do stick out in my mind though and usually result in another bushel of beers being shared. When my cerebral cortex cares, it really cares, baby. And you know what else it really cares about? The painfully tortuous dates. I mean, it doesn’t care in the sense that it’s sad, it cares in the sense that it’s pissed and disgusted and mortified. The pervy fedora dudes stick out even more in my memories than the cute dad joke guys. This kind of tragic rendezvous fails so miserably that I hope to god the person I definitely did not copulate with hates me as much as I hate them so we can begin pretending the other doesn’t exist, which is harder said than done, ˜cause it’s not easy forgetting a trainwreck.
So, what makes a date a trainwreck exactly? How does one achieve that level of courtship downfall? Well, to determine if you’ve ever taken on the role of pervy fedora dude, all you need to ask yourself is if you’ve committed most of the below romantic felonies in one sitting. If you have succeeded at this, cease and desist with dating immediately, apologize to every person you’ve ever tried to make out with, and go straight to a therapist. I’m a big advocate of therapy, especially for assholes. Nothing cures a fuckboy like sobbing hysterically about how their dad is mean to them. But I digress. Let me now present to you: How to Make a First Date the Worst It Possibly Can be. I hope that you will either learn from this or relate to this or just laugh a whole lot at this. Either way, enjoy and may your beer sharing not include any of this entitled bullshit.
You don’t ask the other person a single question that isn’t do you like to have sex?
You just met this individual that very evening. You know nothing about them beyond their online dating profile and the few photos you’ve scanned through and what kind of alcohol they prefer. And guess what? You’re gonna keep it that way! ˜Cause that’s how your conceited self rolls. You don’t got time to be concerned with the interests or experiences or careers of non-yous. You got you-yous to discuss, which you do, at length, for two hours, without blinking or pausing for breath. By the time you two say goodbye hopefully they’ll know the colour and smell and texture of your urine and you’ll know that she knows the colour/smell/texture of your urine.
You spend at least 75 per cent of the hangout on your phone reading off your best tweets
Phones were designed to ruin the possibility of good conversation and emotional connection and behaving like humans. Duh! Furthermore, you’ve grown your social media presence to the point that you actually get one favourite per hashtag you use and that’s something to truly brag about forever. You also receive emails typically once an hour and your tumblr activity is off the charts and don’t even get you started on how many Facebook events you’re invited to. Sure, you haven’t made eye contact with another person for 30 minutes but you have bonded with the internet, which is the future and the now and you’re definitely not getting fucked.
You mansplain, whitesplain and idiot-splain!
You’re a hella smart guy and the world (your mom) knows it. But you know who doesn’t know it? This PhD student who is at the top of her class and who just published a book and who regularly makes speeches at conferences about all of the subjects she’s talking about. So, you better quickly correct her 100% accurate facts with your straight, caucasian penis. If she mentions that she enjoys baseball tell her that she obviously doesn’t because, actually¦. If she divulges a feminist opinion tell her that you kind of agree but¦. If she dares to mention the word racism, interrupt her by reciting that New York Times article you read once last winter and make sure to trivialize and discredit and mock her experiences. Oh, and if she makes a joke, do NOT laugh. Don’t even smile. That perfectly crafted set-up/punchline/tag does not deserve your coveted chuckle. You’re a comedy connoisseur after all. You’re the Bill Burr of privileged fuckboys.
Objectify them from beginning to end and lick your dry lips while doing so
Greet your date by shaking their hand, introducing yourself, and firmly proclaiming Your tits are bigger than I thought they’d be. What are you, an E cup? You gotta be at least a D. How much do your bras cost? Probably a lot considering how huge those are. Shit. Can I measure them? Do you mind? I carry a ruler with me for situations exactly like this. How about it? I’m already measuring them. No need to answer If you’re on a date with a man, tits can be easily swapped out for a dick. Establish the same dialogue about their ass and legs and lips and waist and hair and nostrils and fingernails and knees and heels. You gotta wink at their heels and say you’d like to come on them or what are you even doing?
Bring the conversation back to your ex as much as possible and cry on cue if you can
Yes, this is a date, but that doesn’t mean it’s an inappropriate to ramble on and on about how you’re still in love with your recent ex and how you wish things had worked out between you two and how they’re in a relationship with some loser now who doesn’t even have snapchat. You know that because you stalk your replacement. Proceed to describe said replacement to your date in vivid detail. Use pictures and video and status updates to help demonstrate your point that this stranger who your date doesn’t care about is in fact not cool. End the rant by weeping uncontrollably. Moan and scream and swear as you weep too but only if you can multitask.
Leave the table for fifteen minutes and do not explain why upon your return
At one point in the evening, mysteriously inform them that you need to do something and then disappear for a minimum of ten minutes or at least long enough that your date is confident you’ve run out on the bill and this was all just a con to get a free drink. Then, return to the table and act like nothing happened. When they inquire as to where you were, say It’s none of your business. What are you obsessed with me? Are you fucking crazy? and begin to weep again.
Get, like, totally FUCKED UP, man! It’s your one night out!
Shoot back a couple dozen jager bombs. Keep those double gin and tonics coming. Chase it down with a pitcher of beer you don’t want to split. Get so damn high on the patio. Snort a few lines of coke in the bathroom. Drop MDMA casually at the table like you’re taking a tylenol and do not offer any to your date any ˜cause you just can’t spare a square. It is time to party brother/sister and by party you mean make small talk without your clothes on in public. Where did your clothes go? Who cares! You won’t remember this tomorrow. Only the police will. Sick.
Hit on another person or another persons (as many as you can find really)
Guy, jealousy IS effective. They’re gonna want you SO bad after you make a few other folks uncomfortable. Plus, if you can get laid by multiple people that night, why wouldn’t you? Either schedule the romps back to back or suggest an orgie. Actually, suggest an orgie as soon as you arrive. They probably have hot friends. Make them show you photos of their pals and then take your pick. You get to choose. You’re the king of your garbage, hollow, lonely, pathetic life. Yeah!
Aggressively insult them like you’re a shitty comedian at a roast
Negging is your middle name. You started with innocent objectification now you’ve moved onto amateur bullying. The more you call them fat the more they’ll want to prove to you that they aren’t fat. Their dress looks cheap too and so does their…chin. That chin is so…weird. Nice burn, man. Keep ˜em coming. Their average sized forehead is a goldmine for your stupidity.
Don’t tip well and refuse to pay your own bill and steal from them
Listen. You basically already paid with your TIME and CHARISMA and TALKING ABOUT YOURSELF ONLY. That person should be lucky you took off a night from your not busy at all, no-friends schedule to chill with them. The least they can do is cover your 23 drinks and spot you some cash to buy the drugs you didn’t really purchase so your dealer will finally leave the bar. Also, when they go to the washroom, swipe a few dollars/credit cards/I.Ds from their wallet. Again, it’s the LEAST they can do. They’re so lucky to meet you. Don’t they know how special you are? You’re so so SO special. Your name is Nick and you have brown hair. Hello. You’re the only one like you on OkCupid or in that location or in your own, small, ignorant mind.